Ex rank talent Awakening: 100\% Dodge rate-Chapter 344: COLLECTING INTEREST

Nemesis

Title: God of Dragons and Sea Creatures

Job: Devourer

Level: 125 (30,018,871 / 35,000,000 EXP)

Health: 510,000

Strength: 8,922 (+4,461)

Speed: 8,628 (+4,314)

Stamina: 8,254

Intelligence: 14,789

Constitution: 8,254

Divinity: -672

Free Attribute Points: 0

Created Race: Copy Cats (125,000 / 125,000)

Talents:

[S-rank Talent – Talent Share]

[SSS Rank – Observer]

Concepts:

WEALTH

[ABSOLUTE RESOLUTION (Absolute Concept)]

[DEATH] (Absolute Concept)

[DARKNESS] (Absolute Concept)

Bloodline:

Abyssborn Primordial Dragon Bloodline

Law of Darkness Assimilation: 75.00%

Absolute Concept of Corruption Assimilation: 31%

The numbers were obscene, raw, obscene power that had ballooned far beyond anything he’d imagined even a week ago.

Strength doubled, speed nearly doubled, health surging like a living fortress. Greg stared at the panel for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Normally, he would have shared this with the group, let them see the proof of their shared momentum, the edge they were carving out together.

Not this time.

Not until the demon god and the Celestial King lay broken at his feet.

Until then, these numbers were his alone, quiet fuel for the final push.

After the battlefield was scoured clean of every last demon corpse and scrap of armor, Aaron opened a portal to his independent space.

One by one, the team stepped through, exhausted but unbroken.

Greg followed last, sealing the rift behind him.

Inside the secure pocket dimension, the group gathered in a loose circle.

The air here was cooler, cleaner, no sulfur, no blood.

Just the faint hum of stabilized mana and the soft glow of floating orbs.

"We’ve been asked to choose a province to defend," Greg announced, his voice steady.

"Which one do we hold the fort against the enemy?"

Thomas spoke first, arms crossed. "We can’t pick anything too exposed. A position that can be flanked from all sides is suicide."

Lilith stepped forward, calm and certain. "The Lust province is the best choice. I selected it first precisely because I considered the possibility of betrayal or a multi-front assault."

She gestured with one hand, sketching an invisible map in the air.

"One entire flank borders the wilderness, untamed, trackless land that no army can easily cross without being spotted days in advance.

That means we can concentrate every ounce of our strength on the forward line without worrying about a knife in the back."

"Hmm." Will tilted his head, considering.

"That’s solid. A defensible front, natural choke points, and no rear exposure. I’d say that’s the best strategic option we have."

The others nodded in quiet agreement, heads dipping one after another. No arguments. No second-guessing.

Greg met each pair of eyes in turn.

"Very well. We defend the Lust province. This is the final hurdle. Trust me, it’s going to be much, much harder than anything we’ve faced before."

He didn’t need to elaborate.

The weight of the coming storm already hung thick in the air.

Yet the looks on their faces, sharp, focused, unafraid, told him everything he needed to know. They were ready.

"Take the night to rest," Greg said.

"Tomorrow we begin."

He turned to leave.

"I’ll be back."

"Where are you going?" Annabelle asked, curiosity softening her voice.

Greg paused at the edge of the portal he’d opened.

"I need to gather more abilities if I want to end the demon god quickly. And there’s one in particular I need."

Before anyone could press further, he dissolved into shadow, his body unraveling into wisps of darkness that slipped through the rift and vanished.

He reappeared on the floating island in the human world.

The wind up here was cold and clean, carrying the faint scent of pine and distant rain.

Below, the earth stretched out in patchwork greens and browns, oblivious to the war raging in the demonic realm.

Greg walked to the very edge, his toes curling over the drop.

He took one deep, steadying breath, then stepped forward into free fall. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

The wind roared past his ears, whipping his hair and clothes.

He didn’t summon wings.

No Pegasus.

No dramatic flourish.

He needed to move unseen, covert, silent, a ghost in the daylight.

When the ground rushed up fast enough to make mortal hearts stop, Greg dove into the shadow realm.

The transition was seamless: one heartbeat in free fall, the next swallowed by cool, liquid darkness.

The world outside became muffled echoes and shifting grays.

He moved like smoke through the shadow plane, swift, purposeful.

His destination was clear: the villas of the founding fathers.

It was time to collect interest on old debts.

Exiting the shadow realm only when he reached the perimeter of the sprawling estate, Greg shrouded himself in absolute darkness.

The cloak clung to him like a second skin, bending light and muffling sound.

With the shared Eye of Odin still active through Talent Share, every patrol route, every hidden ward, every sleeping guard appeared in perfect clarity.

He slipped through the villa like a seasoned assassin, silent steps on marble, shadow-to-shadow movement, never once crossing a beam of moonlight.

Guards passed within arm’s reach and never sensed him.

Wards hummed faintly but found nothing to latch onto.

He reached the target room.

Through the Eye of Odin, he saw the occupant clearly: Lens, bearer of the Absolute Concept of Reflection, asleep on his wide bed, his chest rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm. Unaware.

Greg took one final steadying breath, then slipped beneath the door like spilled ink.

In a single fluid leap, he crossed the room, claws extended, intent lethal.

Lens reacted instantly. Even in sleep, instinct triggered his absolute concept.

A mirror-like barrier snapped into existence around him.

Boom!

The entire room disintegrated. Walls exploded outward in a storm of shattered stone and splintered wood.

The villa’s upper floor collapsed in a thunderous cascade of rubble and dust. Alarms screamed through the estate.

Greg landed lightly amid the wreckage, unscathed. He stared at Lens through the settling haze.

"I was right," he said coldly.

Lens stood amid the ruin, his robes torn but his posture unbroken.

Reflection was the perfect counter to Absolute Resolution’s attack certainty, any strike aimed with perfect precision would be mirrored back or nullified.

Lens could never truly harm Greg, but that wasn’t the point.

Greg needed Reflection itself. Against the demon god, who knew what overwhelming, unavoidable attacks might come?

A perfect mirror could turn even cosmic power against its wielder.

"Lens! What’s going on?!" Shouts echoed from distant halls, other founding fathers already converging.

Lens smiled thinly, his eyes gleaming with vindictive satisfaction.

"What’s it going to be? You’re doomed. And unlike last time, you won’t escape."

"That’s what you think," Greg replied evenly. "But I’m not interested in them just yet."

He moved, shadow under his feet sliding to the one directly behind Lens in an instant.

"Don’t move!" Greg commanded, his voice resonating with Dragon Tongue. Mana drained from him in a heavy surge, but he didn’t care.

The order locked Lens’s muscles rigid.

Greg seized him by the collar, dragging the struggling founder into the shadow realm just as the first reinforcements burst through the debris.

The darkness swallowed them both.